


Cooperation

by sevdrag (seventhe)



Series: Sev's Commission Run 2019 [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, day in the life, soft gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-27 01:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18294158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhe/pseuds/sevdrag
Summary: The parties afterwards have, slowly, over time, become less of a party. These days, the celebration - of surviving a battle; of victory over Hydra- spends itself too quickly, and the rest of the evening ends up ebbing to a low simmer of commiseration, murmured assurances, and somewhat stilted strategic planning.It makes Tony feel like absolute shit, because really? Not only did he miss SHIELD being Hydra, and not only can he not find Loki’s magical cattle prod anywhere, but what: can’t he even throw a decent party any more?





	Cooperation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mweehee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mweehee/gifts).



> For @fangirlingtita/mweehee -- working doc was titled "ffs tony why wont u cooperate" and then "tony needs a hug". Hope you enjoy!

The parties afterwards have, slowly, over time, become less of a party. These days, the celebration - of surviving a battle; of victory over Hydra- spends itself too quickly, and the rest of the evening ends up ebbing to a low simmer of commiseration, murmured assurances, and somewhat stilted strategic planning.

It makes Tony feel like _absolute shit_ , because really? Not only did he miss SHIELD being Hydra, and not only can he not find Loki’s magical cattle prod anywhere, but what: can’t he even throw a decent party any more?

He usually ends up finishing the party on his own, with a bottle of bourbon and his bots, and his workshop, endlessly tweaking JARVIS’ code to figure out what they’re missing before either the bourbon or the exhaustion wins. It sucks when taking down Hydra bases only earns a normal hangover rather than a fun raging blackout, but this is his problem to fix, and if he’s gonna solve this he just doesn’t have the time for fun raging blackouts. Maybe it’s growth. Hm. He’ll have to ask Pepper.

This time, the party itself barely starts; Black Widow took a hit to the arm, and while they managed to get it stabilized, she’s still shaken; so is Hawkeye, who hasn’t left her side since the comms flooded with Russian cursing. It’s rare that Widow gets hit; she’s small and arguably the fastest of all of them, with the best reflexes and as much acrobatic flexibility as Hawkeye, and when she _does_ take a Hydra blue glowy laser to the arm the rest of them always end up feeling like they haven’t done their jobs. It isn’t about protecting Black Widow, but: it’s about the team thing. The meshing thing. After two years looking for that fucking glowstick, they should have mostly figured this out already. When they don’t, it stings, no matter who gets singed.

Cap’s shaken too, but that’s partly from the teamwork fail and partly because this particular Hydra-hunt took them through Berlin, and standing on the site where the Wall was put something haunted in his eyes that hasn’t gone away. Thor’s Thor, but Thor misses his home and wants to find his brother’s favorite magic wand so that he can go do... something with it. Probably not stab Loki in the eye, which is what Tony would do, but hey. Brothers.

Banner’s sitting in his chair with a blanket around his shoulders drinking tea. Bruce usually skips the celebrating part and goes right for the guilt. With Widow down, it was Thor who had to try to talk Bruce back out of the Hulk— and it worked eventually, but not as cleanly as either of them would have liked.

The fact of the matter is, this party _sucks,_ and Tony’s only three drinks in and is already sulking.

He can’t take the silence. “What, do I need to order some strippers? Dance music? Cocaine? Got them all on speed dial, just say the word.”

“Tony,” Cap begins, but Hawkeye picks up what Tony’s throwing down, and cuts Cap off.

“I’m tempted to say all three, just to see you do it,” Barton says. This is why Tony likes Barton. He’s a dark sarcastic motherfucker, but he’s good at cutting tension. 

“Put on dance music and I really will lose it,” Bruce murmurs, pulling the blanket more tightly around him. With it over his head as well, curly hair just peeking out, he looks like a grizzled 5-year-old. Bruce smiles, a little bit, which makes Tony think it was an attempt at a joke. Banner’s jokes don’t always hit the mark. Tony likes them more because of it.

“Strippers, then,” Tony says, keeping his voice light. “And cocaine. Strippers on cocaine? I bet I can find that. I probably know a guy.”

Hawkeye snorts, and Tony tilts his glass in a lazy man’s toast.

“Stark is right,” Thor begins, and Cap cuts him off with a weak smile and says: “We are _not_ getting strippers with cocaine, Tony.”

It’s enough that everyone in the room makes some semblance of a laugh, and Tony wants to high five himself. Success! There’s hope for this party after all. It’s the only good fucking thing he’s done today, but it counts.

“Whether or not the naked lads and lasses are invited,” Thor continues, and Tony can tell he’s trying to be cheerful. His voice always booms no matter what he’s saying, and Tony wishes he knew how to do that, mostly for annoying board meetings. “Iron Man is correct in that we should celebrate our victory today. It may not be the endpoint of this war, but we won a mighty battle, and that deserves our notice.”

“But not strippers?” Hawkeye asks, and Widow elbows him while Bruce chucks a coaster at his head.

“Thor’s right,” Cap says, although his look lingers a bit on Tony as he looks at all of them.

“Strippers!” Hawkeye cheers, and now Barton’s just being a little shit and Tony wants to give him some of the _good_ bourbon for helping out here.

Cap shrugs, just shaking his head at Hawkeye, and sighs. “We shouldn’t be this hard on ourselves. We did good things today. It’s another Hydra base that won’t be doing anything anymore. It’s another location crossed off the list.” He lifts his beer - Cap can’t get drunk, but he says he likes trying all the different beers they have now, so Tony keeps a huge variety around for his amusement - in a toast. “Good work, team.” It’s his Captain Voice. 

“Right, good work team, no strippers,” Tony repeats, eyeing Cap as he says it. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s in the mood for the usual raucous shenanigans, so hey, JARVIS, what’s showing on Cap and Thor’s list of movies?”

JARVIS displays the titles up against the wall, and there’s a swift argument before Romanoff says, “ _Pacific Rim,_ ” in the tone of voice of someone who’s not interested in any other answers, and since she’s the one who got hurt everyone agrees and shifts themselves around so that they’re looking at the wall — although there’s some good-natured grumbling from Bruce and Barton both, just to save face.

Bruce shifts around in his chair; the blanket is no longer over his head, which seems like a good sign, although it’s still around his shoulders like a cape. Barton and Romanoff shift around until Barton’s leaning back against the armrest of the couch, Romanoff leaning into him, his arm around her shoulders. Tony wants to make a comment, but Romanoff seems relaxed for the first time since she got hit, and he manages not to. Thor just slings his legs over the arm of the chair, sprawling. 

The mood seems to be lifting. Good. He can fix this. That’s what he does, right?

“Because I am your generous host,” Tony says, standing up and bowing. “I will get the snacks. Also I’ve seen this movie twenty times, Romanoff. Spoilers: everyone gets eaten.”

Widow winks at him, and he can hear Barton’s low chuckle as she shifts her weight slightly and settles into the curve of his arm. “Spoilers,” she says, “Tony gets eaten.”

“I know I’m a snack, Romanoff, but I didn’t think I was your type.” Tony winks back at her, and Widow and Hawkeye roll their eyes in unison.

“I’ll help,” Cap says, and Tony can hear the other man following him over to the kitchenette.

Tony waits until they’re both behind the island, until the opening sounds of the movie are playing out, and then he says, “Cap, this movie’s on _your_ list, you should be watching.”

“Tony,” Cap says. His voice is keyed low, so that no one can hear them, and there’s a note in it that makes Tony want to turn away, down his drink, and run off to his workshop where the worst thing he has to deal with is DUM-E trying to sing Rihanna.

He doesn’t want to have this talk with Cap. He _doesn’t._ He doesn’t want that note in his voice. Tony doesn’t want to hear again how he could be doing more; how he _should_ be doing more. And he doesn’t want Cap’s pity, either. He wants to watch the fucking movie and get drunk and then go break the laws of computer programming in the basement.

“I’m serious, you’re missing all of the backstory right now,” Tony points out. “Huge spoilers. You’re not gonna understand the movie if you don’t head back in there.”

“Tony,” he says, and this isn’t Cap anymore - it’s so hard for Tony to keep them segregated, Cap and Hawkeye and Widow, because the more they work together it’s harder to stop himself from wanting to be able to call them Clint, and Natasha; Tony has yet to offset his desperate want for friendships with any other kind of collateral - but this is Steve, and Tony doesn’t _like_ Steve, because he likes Steve _immensely_ and that lets Steve see things Tony would rather keep buried.

But Cap - Steve - just kind of folds in on himself, in a way Tony isn’t sure he’s seen before, and says with that soft low voice: “It isn’t your fault.”

“What,” Tony says, because that tone of voice is attempting to stir up _thoughts_ and _feelings_ that Tony Stark does not entertain on principle. “You missing the movie? No way that’s my fault, that’s all on you.”

“Would you stop,” Steve starts, and then his hand’s on Tony’s shoulder. It’s strange. Clint and Natasha are physical, as well as Bruce when he’s not tense, but Steve and Tony exist on this strange axis where they can sometimes work together and sometimes they clash and sometimes they have these weird overlapping sympathies and this is a train of thought Tony wants to stop, right now. He grabs a pack of microwave popcorn, gesturing at Cap’s face with it.

“I know most of the intel comes from you,” Steve murmurs, “or Hill, which also goes through you. I know how much work you do to put it together. I know every time we don’t find the scepter, you spend the next couple nights trying to re-evaluate and figure out what’s the next highest priority target.”

“I do not,” Tony says automatically. “I spend the next couple nights fixing my armor and drinking in celebration, Cap. And sleeping. Yoga? Would you buy yoga?”

Steve’s mouth quirks into something like a sad smirk. “JARVIS says otherwise,” he says, and Tony throws a betrayed look up at the ceiling, because that’s where the closest camera is. 

“Well,” Tony begins, and Steve’s hand squeezes his shoulder as Steve says, so gentle and low that Tony starts in place as Steve says: “Just stop.” 

And Steve’s so sincere that Tony feels his face fall for a second, and, _shit:_ because he’s tired as fuck and depressed as _fuck_ and he has to solve this, has to figure out how to get the right answer. And Steve’s watching, and Steve sees it, and his face twists up in a sympathy Tony suddenly and viscerally _hates._

“Look, Cap.” Tony runs both hands through his hair, forgetting that he’s still holding the popcorn. “I know. I don’t need the Captain America pep talk, like, _hey, Tony, we didn’t get it this time but keep your spirits up and maybe find the damn thing?_ , I really don’t.”

The look on Steve’s face is — it isn’t pity, and it isn’t the fake cheer Tony was expecting; it’s _surprise._

“Is that what you think this is?” Steve asks, finally, after what feels like a really long silence.

Tony shrugs, and moves to put the popcorn in the microwave, waving his hand at it to tell JARVIS to take care of the rest. “It’s okay. I’ll fix this. That’s what I do.”

“Tony.” Steve reaches out to turn Tony to face him, and leaves his hands on Tony’s shoulders. Cap’s hands are big, and the knuckles on the left hand are bloodied from their fight. Steve looks down at him for a second, and Tony isn’t really sure what he’s seeing, cause his expression is somewhat like exasperatedly fond, and that’s not what Tony expected. He raises an eyebrow, and twists his lips, once.

“This isn’t all on you,” Steve says gently, pulling Tony a little bit closer. “You don’t need to wear yourself out all the time. We’ll find this together, like we always do.”

The words don’t compute. Sure, they work together, they storm the bases together, but Romanoff and Steve already did their part with revealing Hydra all up inside SHIELD like a badly fitting suit. It isn’t like Thor can help much, since he doesn’t know his way around, and things are rough enough on Bruce. Hawkeye and Widow are still working to figure out which of their contacts were Hydra, or otherwise assholes. That leaves Tony, really. Who else is gonna do it?

“Tony.” Steve shakes him a little, pulling Tony out of that particular thought loop. “Stop blaming yourself, please.”

Blaming himself? Who else is there to blame? Tony shrugs, again, turning to pull the popcorn from the microwave. “There’s gotta be some other way I can filter the intel. JARVIS is backcombing it now, maybe it’ll point in a new direction, something else we can look for.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Steve says, and now he looks exasperated, which is a look Tony’s used to seeing on Steve.

“What? I’m not doing it right yet, but I’ll get there.” Something leaks out in Tony’s voice and he’s too late to catch it, fuck, _fuck._

Steve’s face settles into something Tony can’t quite parse. It definitely isn’t Cap. This might honestly be Steve Rogers, looking at him like he has a point he needs to make.

“You’re doing a great job,” Steve says. His voice is soft and full of genuine kindness. His mouth does that smirk it does when he’s trying not to be all _golly gee, rally the troops!,_ and it does something to Tony’s stomach.

“You’re working as hard as you can. You’re doing everything you know how to do. We’re here, working with tiny pieces of intel, people guessing, and you somehow turn it into a target. You always find the site. You always locate the base. Tony,” and Steve’s almost pleading now. “Will you give yourself a damn break?”

“Language,” Tony says automatically, because he’s an asshole.

“Fuck you,” Steve says, visibly struggling to say the words, and suddenly they’re laughing: Tony at the look on Steve’s face, and Steve seeming surprised at the entire thing.

“Where’s my popcorn?” Barton yells from the couch. “Snacks, Stark, snacks!”

Steve ignores him, stepping back into Tony’s space again. “Hey,” he says. “Come watch this movie for the twenty-first time, joke with your teammates, and _relax._ This isn’t all on your shoulders.”

Tony takes a moment to consider the million ways he can reply to that, and then says, simply, “okay.”

It sounds like defeat, in a way; but Tony isn’t going to admit how vulnerable he feels, how much he feels like he should be doing and knowing, especially not here. So this is the next best step, cause Steve’s face is telling him that no is not an option. 

“Here,” he says, handing Steve the bag of popcorn. “Go stuff this down Barton’s facehole, I’m gonna get the chips.”

Steve leaves, and then comes back to wordlessly take a bowl of Doritos from Tony.

He stops, and Tony knows there’s something he needs to do, to say, to resolve this discussion, to confirm this equation.

“Steve,” he says, and Steve visibly starts, because Tony rarely uses his first name. “Thanks.”

Steve’s mouth does that smirk again, and he gestures at the couch. “C’mon. If you sit with me, we can hog the Doritos.”

And it’s dumb, it’s so dumb, Tony should be down in his workshop cranking out code and frantically soldering like his life depends on it, but — “Yeah,” Tony says, “yeah. Fuck them.”

They’re settled in time to watch Gipsy Danger stumble onto the beach in Alaska and crumple into a pile, and Thor yells, “ _Noooo!”_ at the top of his lungs; Barton cackles and Bruce chokes on his popcorn.

Tony and Steve settle in on the remaining couch, bowl between them, and Tony tries - really tries - to let his brain run a defrag, to put it to sleep, to just sit here and throw chips at Romanoff and relax after what was really a successful mission. The party may not be the kind of party he expected, but hey, he’s seen worse.

It isn’t perfect, but - Steve tosses a Dorito into his hair and Tony eats it as recompense - but it’s enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> [commission notes to come]


End file.
